


found a reason

by freezerjerky



Series: it's coming into sight [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Recovery, Trans Newton Geiszler, farming, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Newt huffs out a laugh and presses his forehead to Hermann’s shoulder. They should both be dressing and preparing for the trek into the city. Still, they have a few long moments to savor the quiet light of the morning. He wishes he could articulate to Hermann how much he wants to stay in these moments forever. It would be easier this way, to stay in the house, in his bed for the rest of his functional life. But that’s not how the world works and Newt must learn to live in the world again. One step at a time.in which Newt learns about the world and his home





	found a reason

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so here comes the bittersweet moment where the series I've been working on for a very long time comes to an end. Many thanks to Erica for the initial idea and all the support and for...well really for everyone who loved this idea enough to encourage me to keep writing more. I hope I did this story justice.
> 
> Title is from "I Found a Reason" by Cat Power which is a cover of a Velvet Underground song but really...this version makes way more sense. 
> 
> If you're interested in my playlist for this series, you can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/lindseyjerky/playlist/6PdTd9ASHx89di2La4D24D?si=6rVg2lE8SXWNA5deopeYXw) on Spotify.

Fall seems to come all at once, once it’s decided to come at all. Newt’s not entirely sure he’s prepared for this seasonal shift, for the red gold trees and the warm sweaters and spending his days indoors. It’s better this year, with Hermann around several days a week, but there’s still that odd sense of discontent that he can’t shake. He still loathes to admit that Hermann was right when he told him that he needed something to do to keep him occupied.

Hermann must sense it too, the way the pamphlets for the aquarium or other opportunities will appear around the house. The moments are subtle- a flyer included in the papers Hermann’s brought home, or hidden amongst the newspapers. The point is never forced down Newt’s throat, but he’s perceptive enough to get the hint.

One evening he sets the flyers and brochures in front of himself as he sits on the table, waiting for Hermann to come home. When Newt closes his eyes and listens closely, he swears he can hear Hermann’s car from a mile away until it’s pulling into the gravel in their front yard. He’s become so familiar with the tread of Hermann across the yard, onto the porch, through the front door. Hermann always takes off his shoes and places them on their small shoe rack, shooing the cat away all the while as Bertrand circles around his feet.

“Hello darling,” Hermann greets him, and Newt leans up enough to give him a kiss. “What are you looking at?”

“You know what I'm looking it,” Newt answers. “Your attempts to get me out of the house.”

“Are they finally working?” Hermann places a hand on Newt's shoulder. His hands are always so damn cold.

“I think I'm ready to start trying.”

Despite the fact that it's time to make dinner and not tea, Hermann fills the kettle and switches it on before settling across from Newt.

“I think you'd really like working with the aquarium. Peter will be able to get you in to do some work you're actually qualified to do, even if it's on a volunteer basis.”

Newt swallows hard. He cannot place where this residual jealousy comes from when he hears certain names, because he knows what he is to Hermann. He's sat in Hermann's office and heard the pride in his voice when he introduced Newt as his partner and he's seen the small assortment of framed photos that litter his desk. Still, the insecurity has taken root in the pit of his stomach.

“Don't look at me like that, Newton,” Hermann says.

“Like what?”

“Like you've eaten a lemon.”

He bursts out into laughter at that. Hermann is odd and wonderfully his. That's what he has to remember.

  


On the morning of the first day at the aquarium, Newt doesn't go back to bed after tending to the chickens and feeding the goat. Instead he sits at the kitchen table with some coffee that he lets get cold. He doesn't like that Hermann has to wake up alone, but he doesn't want his restlessness to destroy Hermann’s last sliver of sleep.

It's still partially dark outside and Newt can hear Hermann stirring awake slowly. Left to his own devices, Hermann would sleep well into the morning, but he folds into alertness with his alarm each morning. Newt wonders if the hours he keeps are starting to impact Hermann, to change the way he sleeps and rises. For his part, Newt's been sleeping far more peacefully over the past several months. Sharing a bed is one of Newt's favorite pleasures in life. When he thinks of how much of his adult life he's spent without a sleeping companion, he feels he's calculating a stretch of wasted time.

Not wanting to alarm Hermann, he pads back to the bedroom and busies himself with his dresser, picking out clothes for the day.

“Where've you been?” Hermann half mumbles through his words. “Your side's gone cold.”

“Wasn’t tired,” Newt answers with a shrug. 

“You could have woken me up.” Hermann sits up, his hair askew and his eyes half closed. “Are you nervous?”

“A bit. Mostly I'm just eager to get to the bit of the day when I get to come home.”

“You don't have to go today if you don't want to.”

“I need to go today. If I don’t go today, I’ll never go.”

Hermann pats the bed beside himself and Newt sits down, letting Hermann pull him in for an embrace. He’s still warm with sleep and soft in a way Newt thought he’d never associate with Hermann of all people. But he’s so very soft, and sweet when he kisses the top of Newt’s head.

“It’s very brave of you to go out and do this, darling. You know I’m going to love you no matter what, right?”

“I don’t feel brave for doing this,” he responds, pulling away from the embrace. “Nervous, maybe. Stupid for being nervous about this.”

“Brave is not a feeling, in my experience. Bravery is something you just do anyway.”

“Fortune favors the brave,” Newt finds himself muttering under his breath. “I was brave once.”

Still half-asleep, Hermann narrows his eyes at Newt. “With all due respect, Newton, I believe you were stupid, not brave.”

Newt huffs out a laugh and presses his forehead to Hermann’s shoulder. They should both be dressing and preparing for the trek into the city. Still, they have a few long moments to savor the quiet light of the morning. He wishes he could articulate to Hermann how much he wants to stay in these moments forever. It would be easier this way, to stay in the house, in his bed for the rest of his functional life. But that’s not how the world works and Newt must learn to live in the world again. One step at a time.

  


There’s a new subtle shift in Newt’s routine, now that he’s volunteering. They don’t talk much about what he does with his day, usually on the days he goes to the aquarium, Newt’s too socially exhausted to talk much when he comes home. The last thing he wants to talk about is anything that doesn’t directly relate to Hermann or their life together. In fact, that’s his comfort on these busy days. He wants to go home and go directly to bed so he can breathe Hermann in and melt into the comfort of Newt and Hermann, he and I. But he doesn’t.

He’s fixing the fire as Hermann makes them dinner. It’s almost laughable, the issues a man of almost fifty can have with cooking, but Newt finds it too charming to actually laugh at it. They’re both learning constantly and growing together. When the fire is glowing, Newt leans back on his hands and takes a few moments to admire his handiwork. He remembers just a year ago how pervasive the idea of sticking his hand in the fire to feel its intensity was. The desire to burn himself to ash until nothing was left has left the forefront of his mind, but he supposes the mere fact that he remembers this means it’s not dealt with yet.

“Do you want to eat in the living room tonight?” Hermann calls from the kitchen. “Bertrand, off the damned table.”

For a moment Newt doesn’t speak. He waits for the tell tale sound of the cat plopping with his full weight on the hardwood floors. Sometimes in moments like these he imagines that this has been his life for over a decade, even if it wouldn’t have been anything like this if they’d started a decade earlier.

“Newton?” Hermann calls again when he receives no response.

“Living room is fine. It’s warmer here, anyway.”

The cold bothers Hermann. It makes his bones ache and sometimes leads to very grumpy mornings that even kissing and Newt’s warm hands can’t solve. Hermann’s almost always in layers, two pairs of socks, a sweater with a flannel. Years ago Newt would tease him about this because surely he should be better equipped for these days after his childhood in awful Bavaria. Hermann would glare at him and tell him that he hadn’t spent winter there since he was a child and had since lived in more temperate climates.

Newt rises slowly off of the floor and moves to the kitchen to help Hermann collect the plates and move them to the kitchen. The mere sight of the food reminds him of how hungry he is which is why he’s taken off guard when Hermann speaks.

“Peter said he stopped by to see you today,” Hermann says.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Newt nearly spills his food on the front of his shirt. “I was helping with the kid’s section.”

“That’s progress,” Hermann remarks. “Talking to the children?”

“Kids are easier than adults.” Newt shrugs. “They said if I don’t mind doing it, they’ll hire me part-time.”

“That’s fantastic, Newton.”

Suddenly less hungry, Newt puts his fork down. “I’m not sure if I want that, to be honest with you, man.”

Hermann reaches for his hand, offering himself as a lifeline when Newt can't truly voice how much he needs it.

“You don't have to ever go back to work if you don't want to,” Hermann remarks as he rubs his thumb on the back of Newt's hand.

The desire Newt feels is difficult to articulate. He's been content with the life he's build, but he's also aware that this contentment may also be considered complacency. There's that urge, though, never too far from his mind, to cut into something and take it apart methodically. This is what he's good at, what he's trained to do for so many years. Newt can disassemble and put things together, but he's been focusing too much of this energy on himself to trust his hands with a scalpel, literal or metaphorical.

“I like the work I do here,” Newt answers instead. There's still work to be done on the house, he's now started to remodel the upstairs and expand the shed outside.

“Darling, of course. Whatever brings you the most peace.”

“Peter leaving me alone while I'm working,” Newt half jokes. There's always that initial pang of jealousy he feels towards many of Hermann's friends, even now that they're sharing a life together. He doesn't want this, he wants to be fine with this.

“I can ask him to stop, if you prefer. He...he likes you, is all, and wants to see you happy.”

That's a novel enough concept. Newt doesn't have many people left in the world besides Hermann, and he certainly doesn't have anyone else where he lives now. This was not purposeful, but Newt still acknowledges his desire to isolate. He knows fully well the urge in his bones to never see another person again. But he misses people. He likes working with the children, who have such barely formed opinions and are open with their interests. Once, he was that unguarded.

“I don't like him very much,” Newt admits. 

“I know you don't,” Hermann says. 

There's really no good reason for this, and Hermann fully knows Newt's not good reason for disliking this particular friend. Newt can decode what his smiles mean, he used to wear the same grins with the ease of wearing an old favorite t-shirt. But he trusts Hermann and believes in the faithful love he's been shown since he's moved in.

This doesn't mean the rest of their dinner doesn't feel awkward.

  


Hermann sleeps late whenever he can. On weekends, he'll lie in bed until noon if left undisturbed. Newt usually wakes up very early to check for eggs and make sure the chickens are cared for, but afterwards he'll slip back into bed and doze until he has to wake again, or until the sun wakes him up. Sometimes Hermann will shuffle close and half asleep comment that he smells like barn. Oddly, this doesn't seem to deter him from putting an arm around him or kissing him softly.

It's safe to say that Hermann hates that he leaves bed every morning, but Newt hasn't made an exception to that once. Newt knows that one lazy morning turns into two lazy mornings and then grows into an unending stretch where he begs Hermann to never leave bed again. Instead, he allows Hermann to appear to be the greedy one, desperate for a few moments of the quiet love that's only shared when half asleep and wrapped up in each other. Newt doesn't have many indulgences, but feeling needed and wanted like this is one of them.

This morning it's rained on Newt, the heavy and heady rain of uncomfortable autumn. Everything feels cold and he strips completely bare, shivering, laying his clothes out on chairs and any surface he can find along the way. These feelings sometimes have their silver lining, the reminder that he can still feel poorly and uncomfortable. He relishes in it, just the evening before he had stood in it for a few long minutes before Hermann chided Newt to come back inside.

Newt's fully undressed when he climbs into bed. It's not uncommon for them to sleep naked or mostly naked and in the past months they've passed the marker of comfort where nudity signifies comfort just as much as desire.

“You're getting the bed wet,” Hermann mumbles, but still partially lifts the blanket so Newt can move in closer. “Come back to sleep.”

Newt stops for a moment to press a kiss to Hermann's sleep swollen mouth. There's the base sensation in the pit of his stomach at the memory of where Hermann's mouth was the night before. It's quelled by the comfortable thought of a few hours more of sleep on a rainy day.

“Eggs?” Hermann ventures, struggling for any sort of semblance of being awake.

“Two today. The rooster seemed far too proud of himself for doing no actual work.”

“That's just how they are.”

“Figures you would relate.” Newt smiles as he settles in bed.

The illusion Newt once would entertain- the idle fantasy that he'd actually spent the entirety of his life with Hermann can never be the truth. He carries the sorrow of his lost years with him. This doesn't mean he doesn't sometimes want to cry in moments like this when he realizes this is as close to that vain hope as his life could possibly ever get. Newt feels for perhaps the first time since buying the farmhouse that he's a truly lucky man. He knows this is false and he must have felt lucky before.

Hermann shuffles closer once Newt is under the blankets properly. The light’s not yet started to stream through the windows but Newt can make out the face he makes when he realizes Newt’s a bit wet.

“Darling,” Hermann says, stifling a yawn. “Perhaps you can dry off next time you come back inside during a thunderstorm.”

“If you need me to, I can dry off now.” He’s fully aware his hair is still wet and his pillow is getting soaked because of it.

“No, absolutely not,” Hermann protests. In a moment, there’s an arm slung around Newt’s waist. “You’re so cold now, I’d hate for you to become colder.”

“Are you going to warm me up?” Newt teases, resting his own hand on Hermann’s hip. 

“You know I’m not capable of that.”

Newt smiles softly and moves in as close as he can. Hermann’s not as full of angles as he once was, his face has softened and the domestic life they’ve chosen has filled him out more. (Despite the privilege of growing old with someone, Newt doesn’t like to think that age has had a factor. Hermann is more comfortable because of love and love alone.)

“You know,” Newt begins, starting to mouth along Hermann’s jaw. “I’m naked right now.”

“I’m fully aware, Newton. I’ll service your libido when I’m properly awake.”

“What happened to the romantic I fell in love with?”

“He needs to be wide awake,” Hermann grumbles. “Go back to sleep for a few hours. It’s Saturday.”

This seemed impossible once, Newt thinks, this comfort with Hermann. It permeates every aspect of his life and he almost forgets what it was like to laugh and tease and never move any further. Sometimes he thinks it’s all a dream and he’ll wake up alone in his bed, or strapped to a chair. He rarely wakes up alone these days.

Hermann makes good on the promise when they do wake up and they don’t leave bed until well after noon.

  


They've settled in for a quiet evening, even with the howling wind, on the couch. Newt's given in to knitting (a soft scarf for winter) as Hermann reads. Sometimes Hermann will read particularly interesting passages aloud but otherwise it's quiet until he closes the book.

“What are our plans for the holidays?” Hermann asks, glancing over at him.

Newt pauses for a moment but doesn't falter in his knitting.

“I don't know. I mean, I liked last year. But we weren't- you didn't live here all the time then.”

“Not all the time, no.”

The phrasing must not be lost on Hermann, then, the implication that he always lived with Newt and was not simply a visitor. He was, from the moment of his origin in Newt's life, a constant. Now it's more official, is all; lacking only some trivial paperwork. Newt flushes at the thought, half ashamed to admit how pleased he is at the prospect of metal bands and signing their names together.

“We could...we could go visit somewhere,” Newt suggests, because he feels he must.

“I was actually wondering if we could have a family holiday. Here. If I could invite my sister and brothers. I doubt my brothers would come, but Karla might. They could stay at the inn in town, they wouldn't be an imposition. I promise my nephews and nieces would-”

Newt cuts Hermann off then, reaching for his hand to squeeze it gently.

“We can't fit them all here for more than a night or two, but of course they can stay here. The upstairs bedroom is almost ready and we've got the one down here and the couch.”

“Are you certain?” Hermann asks, lacing his fingers in Newt's. “That's a lot of people.”

“They're your people, it's not the same thing.”

“Last year at New Year's…”

“That was last year.” Newt lays his knitting down fully. “I was paranoid. I was insecure. I was afraid I'd lost you without even having you.”

Hermann smiles, broad and fond, at him and squeezes his hand. 

“You have me now,” he responds. “For the rest of your life.”

There's an urge to protest that he swallows down. That's never a guarantee or something someone can promise. Newt is past the days of wanting Hermann to leave to appease his own rotten feelings. That feeling is just a nagging thought in the back of his mind that he packs away far more easily than other invasive thoughts. It turns out that even after the decade he had, it's easy to become comfortable in having exactly what you've wanted. Newt's forgotten that things could come so easily.

“I do,” Newt answers, instead of delving into the uncertainty. “And your people are my people so they should come to see us for the holidays.”

“If you wanted a quiet holiday, that's fine as well.”

“Hermann. It's fine. I want to have a...a normal experience. Last year was great and what I needed, but I don't need that much quiet anymore.”

There's no real way of proving this but a feeling in Newt's gut. He used to hate quiet, he used to want to fill this world with all encompassing, joyous loud. That feeling is never going to come back, that feeling is the precise thing his trauma has robbed him of. But it will not, he will not allow it to, rob him of the warmth of open affection and family. 

  


The woman in the lobby waiting room always gives Newt such pleasant smiles whenever he comes to visit. The security in Hermann’s building is such that someone needs to escort Newt to the office and he’s used to these waits. Today he’s early and settled in to scroll through his phone. He’s already past the small talk phase, and he’s promised Beth (the woman at the desk) half a dozen eggs next time he comes by. 

He’s had a good morning, he even allowed Peter to stop him for conversation on the way into the building and offered him a smile that could be considered genuine by people that don’t know Newt well. Now, it’s time for lunch at Hermann’s desk and conversation and the quiet peace of schedules that mesh very well together. It’s absurd, Newt realizes, how much he misses Hermann in their time apart. The thought that only a year ago he was content with time apart, that he thought he could enforce so little for himself. Newt had been denying himself one of his fundamental pieces of contentment. (He remembers, always, that Dr. Sutcliffe says happiness is a mood and not a state of being, but he’s half fooled into thinking she’s lying these days. Maybe he’ll tell her as much in his session this afternoon.)

Perhaps too late, he notices the stares in his direction. He’s not naive- he knows sometimes people stare, sometimes there’s comments. Most people couldn’t associate the face of the man they see with the face of the man- the creature, the being, the bastard- they hate. This surprises Newt, because he can see it far too well some mornings when he takes the first glance at the lines on his face.

“Can I help you?” Newt asks, instinctively moving his bag off of the seat next to him, which is absurd because there’s no one else sitting in the lobby.

“It’s disgusting that they let you go free,” the stranger, a man about half a foot taller than Newt, says.

“Oh,” is all Newt can respond. He doesn’t disagree, but that doesn’t mean he agrees either. In all this time after his- after that time he can’t give a name to- Newt has only been a risk to one person.

“Is that all you’re gonna say there?” The man steps forward. “I heard you’re around town, flaunting the fact that you’ve killed thousands and-”

“I’m just here to meet with my partner, dude,” Newt interrupts as he stands. There’s no place to go, but he feels the panic rising in his chest. He’s never been confronted so plainly and he hadn’t realized until this moment how lucky he is for this.

“Your partner? That’s good for you. You took other people’s partners away and you can just have whatever you want. I swear, the rich can get away with whatever they want.”

The man’s close enough that Newt can’t step forward without moving past him and he’s held back when he does try to move forward. He’ll find a way into the elevator, he’ll escape to the safety of Hermann’s office even if Hermann’s not ready for him, even if Hermann doesn’t want him. Hermann always wants him.

“I don’t need to defend myself to you. I don’t know you.”

“They should have killed you,” the man continues. “You should be dead.”

Newt stares blankly ahead at him. There’s a fragile bit in him that’s on the verge of breaking, the parts that he’s always trying to keep from falling to pieces. He’s agreed with this man. He used to actively agree with this man, to believe in his words like they were absolute truth. Some days, most days if Newt’s honest with himself, the thought is still buried deep within him, but the brightness has started to outweigh this.

“What would me being dead solve?” Newt bites out, instead of breaking down.

“Justice.”

“Listen, buddy, justice is me living with this. With knowing that I will never know all the names or all the damage but I’m carrying them with me. That even though I was a victim too, even though I didn’t control any of this, it was- it was me. It was in my head. So I don’t need an asshole like you telling me it would be better if I was dead. I know.”

“You were a victim too? You? Pretty bold of you.”

Newt tries to brush past the man again, and he’s physically pushed back, nearly toppling against the chairs. By the time he’s righted himself, he hears the distinctive clacking on tile, the arrival of a savior. But he doesn’t want to be seen like this.

“You need to leave this instant before I call security,” Hermann declares as he approaches, doing his best to put himself bodily between the man and Newt.

“I’m just taking out the trash,” the man states.

“This bloody. Fucking. Instant,” Hermann repeats. 

The next moment will remain always seared into Newt’s brain, filed with the disasters he could have averted. But the stranger’s arm moves too quickly, even if each nanosecond breaks down in Newt’s mind, even if he imagines it’s possible to move more quickly. When the fist, this instrument of hatred, connects with Hermann's face, Newt's steady on his feet in an instant.

Anger has become a foreign emotion to Newt. As much as he's wanted to feel the full spectrum, to feel well and truly alive, the anger he's had has always been targeted at himself. If he hated anything so passionately, so red hot, it was himself. And now for the first time in many years, the intensity of this feeling is burning for someone else. In those first moments he doesn't care that there's fear in the eyes of the stranger. Newt steps forward, ready to counter.

But then he remembers what he cares for most in the world and turns his attention to Hermann. The liberation of anger turns in that moment to tenderness, and he's barely snapped a “fuck off” before he's leaning in close to Hermann. He kneels in front of him and asks to see his face.

The man turns on his heel, but is met with a security guard and justice. Newt doesn't care, he doesn't care what been said about him, what he does care about is the crossfire.

“I think it's broken,” Newt says remorsefully, trying to hide the quiver of his voice. There’s blood and Newt’s looking for something to stop it but he feels helpless.

“Dr Go-” the guard starts but is immediately cut off.

“Just throw him out,” Hermann snaps. “I don't know what he's here for, but he's not welcome in this building again. If he sets foot near either of us again, I will press charges.”

There's a darkness in Hermann's expression that Newt doesn't recognize. He doesn’t fear it, though. With a wince, it melts away to softness.

“We need to get you to a doctor. I'll- I'll call Dr. Sutcliffe and say I'm not gonna make it today,” Newt says. He needs to do something so he doesn't dwell on what's just occurred. 

“I'm fine, Newton.”

“You were just punched in the face, I'm taking you to the doctor and then we're going home.”

Home, Newt realizes, is the only place he wants to be for the rest of his life. And he means that wholeheartedly. He’s not afraid to lock them both away for the rest of their days.

  


The doctor confirms that Hermann's nose is, in fact, broken. Hermann insists that he's dealt with worse but Newt's broken his twice and knows that it's not pleasant. The one thing he doesn't want is for Hermann to hurt, or feel any sort of pain. He's failed in this.

Most of the car ride home is spent in silence, save for the low hum of the radio. Despite the time spent receiving medical attention, they arrive back at the farmhouse earlier than they usually would.

It's still dark, though, and there's more than a bit of a chill in the air. Hermann immediately goes into the kitchen to make a kettle of tea and start on dinner. Newt checks on the chickens and musters up enough energy to tease the goat. In the spring, the goat will have kids, which Hermann insists they cannot keep. It seems like a fair compromise.

Newt doesn't come back into the house. He alternates between pacing and staring blankly out ahead. Everything is crisp and dry. Dead, he thinks idly. Summer and everything it stands for has long since decayed. Hermann hated visiting last winter, it hurt his joints and the house was too cold. Newt's fucked up. He's fucked this all up and he can't quell the dread panic resting in his stomach.

He dares to shift a glance to the kitchen window, where Hermann is now cleaning away the dinner dishes. Hermann asked him to come inside but he couldn't bring himself to do it, he doesn't know what's waiting for him inside. For all the times he's feared that Hermann may leave him, he's never felt it so acutely, or felt only fear and sadness at the thought. It's selfish, he thinks, to not have the thought that Hermann should go anymore. Even though Hermann himself has said that he hates that Newt wants him to leave, as good as declared he's going to stay, Newt feels like a selfish bastard for purely wanting him to stay.

But Newt feels it in his bones that Hermann's going to leave. So he stays on the porch where he can't miss him passing through. It's cold and he's chilled through, but he doesn't care. He'd risk death for a chance at a goodbye.

His dramatics are cut off by the window opening.

“Newton, come inside, you'll catch your death out there like that.”

“In a moment.”

“No, darling,” Hermann retorts. “Come inside now.”

The window shuts and in a few moments the front door swings open and Hermann stands in the doorway. He's in a warm robe and pajama pants with one of Newt's t shirts. Hermann's not going anywhere.

“Why on Earth are you still out here?” Hermann asks as he steps onto the porch. There's a small cast on his nose and he'd look laughably cute under any other circumstances.

“Hermann I-”

He promised to himself he would use this life to make things good for Hermann. To do everything but hurt him. He's failed at this and there's no coming back from that.

“Newton?”

“I got you hurt.”

Hermann shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s the case at all. I am hurt but that man was a...hateful and violent man. Come inside now.”

“I don’t want you to leave me,” Newt admits, and immediately regrets saying it. Is that manipulation? Is he using Hermann’s feelings for him to demand that he stays? How does he voice his desires without guilting Hermann into staying forever?

“How fortunate that I’m very comfortably settled here.” Hermann does take a step further onto the porch, but only to extend his hand. Newt takes it and tries not to react to the displeased look on Hermann’s face when he notices how cold Newt’s hand is. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Someday, Newt knows, one of them will go. That’s the tragedy of being alive and love has saved Newt from a lot, but it can’t save him from everything. But that’s different, it’s the natural course of time and the design of the imperfect universe. He squeezes Hermann’s hand as though this can convey any understanding.

“I wanted to kill him,” Newt responds. “And I was happy about it, in a way. Because I was feeling something so strong. But then I saw that you were hurt, and you were bleeding and I- I wanted to feel something steady and I wanted to take care of you.”

“You do. You did. Now, let me take care of you.”

“You’ve done that enough,” Newt adds. “You’ve been doing that.” He takes advantage of the natural urge to curl in close then and lets Hermann pull him into his arms.

“Let’s get you warm,” Hermann says, even as he wraps an arm more tightly around him. “There’s a plate for you to warm up and a bed that’s waiting for you. It’s been a long day for you, dearest.”

“It’s been a long day for you as well.”

“Mhm, but I ate dinner, Newton, and that’s the difference tonight.”

Hermann gingerly kisses the top of Newt’s head then, and Newt can hear the slight wince as he shifts. The injuries heal, he reminds himself. Everything heals in its own time and setbacks and pain are natural. He braves the cold for just a few moments longer to kiss Hermann properly, and Hermann doesn’t protest that.

  


The alarm always rings earlier than Newt would like it, which is to say it rings exactly on time. It’s a cold morning, Newt thinks, outside of their oversized quilt. He hasn’t tested this out, but he suspects it’ll be unpleasant to leave bed. Despite arriving home early, they’d stayed up late the night before, talking through their feelings on the violent act of the day prior, then on plans for their future.

At the thought of that part of the conversation, Newt flushes and sinks further down into the blankets. There’s the shift of the blankets next to him, and a hesitant arm wrapped around his middle. Newt wants to melt into this, to let the intimacy of their shared bed be the only thing in his world for a few more hours.

“Stay,” Hermann mumbles, as though picking up on his thoughts. “Stay in bed today.”

There are worse things, Newt realizes, than not collecting eggs early in the morning. It’s the cold months anyway and he doesn’t need to justify himself. He fumbles with his alarm and turns it off before slipping back fully under the covers to wrap himself up in Hermann.

“Alright, I’ll stay,” Newt says softly, kissing what he thinks must be Hermann’s cheek.

“Missed my mouth.”

“Wasn't aiming for it, you needy man.” Newt kisses him again, properly this time. “Sleep for a while longer.”

“Mm, and you're gonna stay?”

“Yeah, Hermann, I'm gonna stay right here.”

It's the first time Newt stays in bed in the morning and he can't find it within himself to feel any guilt or regret about it.

  


The next two weeks are a trial that Newt wasn't expecting. When he first attempts to leave for a trip into the city, he's immediately seized with panic. What if something happens again? What if he reacts violently to something happen? Dr. Sutcliffe is kind enough to do their sessions over video and Newt finds a comfort in the fact that Bertrand the cat sits in his lap through the duration of therapy. He also feels more comfortable with crying because he’s in his own home.

He stays in bed every few days, lets the chickens wait it out. They’re cross with him when he does appear to check for eggs and feed them, but that is usually easily conquered by the sweetness of breakfast as they follow him through the yard. The goat, for her part, seems to care less, so long as she has hay to tide her over.

But he must get back to his routine, he knows this. He doesn’t need a therapist or an overly concerned partner telling him that one setback shouldn’t keep him from living his life. As much as he can miss anything that isn’t contained in his farmhouse, Newt misses the liberty of his days in the city. He’s been dreaming of the aquarium, of floating in the tanks with the jellyfish or the sharks, weightless in the depths of the ocean. There’s a room of creatures that are native to the Pacific Ocean, and sometimes he’d just sit there and watch them all with curiosity and a guilt he can’t place.

It’s this room he dreams of the most- the glass splintering and then cracking open and everything spilling open into a tidal wave. The framing and events should play this out as a nightmare but Newt knows nightmares and this is not one. No, this is a comforting dream and fantasy for him. He floats in a way that is like death but not wishing for death, which is to say he feels peace.

Newt’s stirred from the dream by the sensation of the other side of the bed dipping lower. This is unfamiliar, Newt thinks, and uncommon. Hermann sleeps as late as possible, and the sun’s just barely started to think of rising. It’s still time for the night stars for a few minutes longer.

“Where ya going?” Newt says, half yawning.

“I thought I’d go tend to your beasties and let you sleep in,” Hermann answers softly. Newt can’t see his face, but he can tell that Hermann’s blushing.

“Y’don’t have to do that.”

“I know that. And I know you’ve been waiting some days, but I wanted to do this today.”

Shifting slightly, Newt attempts to lift the covers.

“If you want to do something nice for me,” Newt begins, “get back under the covers so I can keep you warm.” He’s continuously awed at how bold he can be with Hermann, how open with his affections he’s allowed to be. It seems absurd, because this openness is something that comes naturally to him. “And I conveniently don’t have any pants on.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Hermann slips back under the covers. Newt welcomes him with open arms. 

“I miss our lab,” Newt says at length, a quiet confession in the still of morning. The time for the stars is slipping away.

“Our lab?”

“You know. The lab. I miss that, and I know it’s normal to miss that because it all happened before everything, but-”

“You want a chance for things to be different,” Hermann supplies.

“I think sometimes I’d rather have that back than this even, and then I feel terrible,” Newt admits. “I want to feel useful again, and I want to cut things open and figure out what they mean.”

“And shout at me.”

“Well yeah, that was an essential part of the process.” Newt finds he’s smiling. “For a long time, I was afraid of the feeling, the need to cut something open. I was-” He pauses, chews on his lip for a moment. “Well, I think we both know what I was afraid of harming, but now I don’t feel that as strongly. I just...I don’t want to destroy anything.”

“The very nature of you is the opposite of destruction, Newton,” Hermann remarks and he emphasizes his point by stealing a kiss.

“Thousands of lives, Hermann. Thousands.”

“And that was not you, no matter what you or anyone else thinks. You are the man that looked at dead things and found things to learn from them, that when you found out you had been used to destroy against your will you found a broken down thing and made it whole again.”

“I made it whole for you,” Newt confesses. “So much of this was for you.”

“I know, and I can never thank you enough.”

“Don't thank me. I did this selfishly, because I love you and want you to stay.”

“You want me to be happy with you, I don't think that's selfish of you.”

It's amazing how quickly the rising sun can shift the light. The darkness is lifted and with each moment, Hermann's face looks clearer.

“Why don't we rest a bit longer?” Newt asks, landing a kiss to Hermann's chin. “Then we can get the eggs together.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

Closing his eyes, Newt only takes a moment to think about how much falling back asleep is like floating. Despite a heaviness he knows that he can never shake, he feels buoyant.

  


The first day back at the aquarium fills him with anxiety, but Newt falls back into it easily. No one else questions where he was, but he's greeted with warm smiles. He's sent to the children's area, where he keeps quiet watch. There's sometimes the tender pang of what could have been when he sees these happy and eager faces but mostly he feels a quiet joy in seeing them learn for the first time. (Once the mere thought _Hermann_ _would_ _have_ _been_ _a_ _great father_ reduced him to tears, but he's made his peace.)

Soon, he's comfortable enough to talk and assist, chattering with the eager learners about the creatures they're touching. He even manages a genuine smile when a kid tells him that he's got cool tattoos. There's no use in denying the past or the things it's brought him. He carries them not only as the scars they are but as badges of honor.  _ I lived,  _ they remind him on days he's not sure if he's alive or dead. 

About two hours in, he's greeted by a pleasant voice and forced to put on a fake smile when a familiar face steps into the room.

“Oh hey, Peter.” Newt waves good naturedly and stamps out the contention in his stomach.

“Hey, I just wanted to see how you’re doing, first day back and all.”

Newt’s not even sure what business Peter has being here. From what Hermann says, he works closely with the aquarium due to some sort of experiments he does, but Newt usually tunes that out. Some time ago he’d have found the information more interesting but for now he’s trying to understand why he can’t stop himself from being jealous of the other man after all this time.

“I’m alright.” Newt shrugs minimally. He’s been better. He’s been worse. He wants to go home and crawl into bed and never leave. That’s better than wanting to disappear completely or explode like a dying star.

“Hermann has been so worried about you,” Peter explains, “and I was dropping by anyway so I-”

“You’re reporting at his request.”

“Nah, he knows you’re a big boy, can take care of yourself.” Peter smiles and Newt wants to slap his good natured face for the virtue of being a good natured face.

For a moment, Newt narrows his eyes, trying to figure this man out. He must have an odd look on his face because Peter laughs.

“This might surprise you, Newt, but people besides Hermann want to see you do well,” Peter explains. “There are people in this world who might even want to be your friend, if you’d imagine it.”

The truth is, Newt never had much in the way of friends in the first place. He was too young to associate with the others in school, then too busy, then too busy isolating himself. There was only one steadfast figure in his life and he clings to that person so intently. Newt supposes he’s ready to see what it’s like to let others in, the way Hermann seems to have.

“You should come by for dinner sometime,” Newt offers. “If it gets to be too late, we’ve got a guest room. I’m sure Hermann would love to have you.”

“You two make a good couple. You suit him, you balance him out.”

“When we first met, we were a disaster.”

“And you loved him then. And he loved you. How lucky.”

“But we didn’t-” Newt stops himself. He’s spent so much of his adult life with the man he loves, he’ll spend the rest with him. He’s lucky. In that moment he lets himself be lucky and that feels like something that he deserves.

  


The day is surprisingly warm for November and Newt takes slightly longer than usual in his morning chores, sitting outside and talking to the chickens as though they’re old friends. When he comes inside, Hermann’s half dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks like he’s half awake, but Newt can see his beautiful wide mouth break into a smile when he steps into the room. His nose is all but healed, and the cast has since been cast aside.

“Is it time for you to go to work already?” Newt asks, slotting himself between Hermann’s legs. Almost instinctively, Hermann weaves his arms around him, pressing his face into Newt’s stomach.

“I’m not going to work today, Newton.”

“Is something wrong?” Newt furrows his brow.

“I want to take you somewhere. Well, two somewheres, if that’s alright with you.”

“Can I know where we’re going?”

“This is going to sound absurd if I say it out loud, darling.”

Newt frowns and pulls away enough to look down at him. “So long as you’re not taking me somewhere to break up with me, I’m gonna be fine with it.”

“No, not break up with you.” Hermann shakes his head. “What I had in mind was rather the opposite- oh, that’s forward of me, isn’t it?”

They’ve talked about this, Newt knows, in the abstract, as an eventuality. Newt had always assumed it wouldn’t come until one of them was ill, or they’d been prodded too much about Hermann’s sister about it. The concept seems like something so divorced from Newt and who he’s been that it takes him a moment to refocus on the idea.  _ Husband _ . It means Hermann stays, and he stays forever, even when Newt’s done something stupid or the cold goes all the way down into Hermann’s bones. 

“Are you certain?” Newt asks and he pulls away to wipe at his eyes, ridiculously pushing his glasses up his face.

“Yes, I’m certain. Are you certain?”

This conversation, Newt realizes, should be had with someone on their knees, and so he drops down in front of Hermann.

“Yes, of course I am, Hermann. I’m just- just so we’re clear you’re essentially asking me to elope?”

“Well, we’d be back here by nighttime, but yes. I first thought of it when I realized how afraid you were that I would leave you, but I didn’t want to just so you’d stop fearing that. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking of it since and I’m aware you probably think I’m an old romantic fool.”

“I do, and I love you for it.” Newt takes Hermann’s hands in his owns and kisses them, lingering for a moment on each. They stare at each other in understanding for a few moments too long, yet not long enough.

  


There is no formality, no gold bands exchanged (yet.) They sign papers and kiss and Newt feels the mix of divine happiness and anxiety rolling in his gut. He's unsure if he's dreaming or imagining this all, but he prays that it's real and true, and Newt never prays.

Hermann insists they drive Newt's pick-up to wherever they're going and Newt has to laugh at how absurd Hermann is behind the wheel, but they manage well enough.

“Of all the ways we could have ended up, did you ever imagine this?” Newt asks, once he's content with the radio selection. 

“What part of this do you mean?”

“All of this.”

“I had always hoped it would be like this, more or less. I had hoped for less...for less sorrow for you. I think often of that day you said you'd almost rather have our life in the lab than this, and I..I don't feel the same but I do regret every day I hadn’t told you how I felt then.”

“Hermann.”

“I always tell you that you can't bring your regrets to bed, but I keep dragging in my own. I regret not telling you I loved you sooner. Maybe I could have stopped all this if I'd had any sort of clue. And-”

Newt swallows hard and reaches for Hermann's hand. “I've got you. Here and now, and I'm not going anywhere.”

“It's okay if you do,” Hermann says. “It's okay if you decide you want something else- you-”

“You think because I'm doing better I might wake up and leave you one day.”

“No, I just know that you can and if it's what's best for you, you should.”

Newt laughs, even though he knows he shouldn't. “Hey, Hermann? Dr. Gottlieb-Geiszler? Let's just agree that the only leaving we're doing is together.” He squeezes Hermann's hand.

“I'm amenable to that.”

The realization dawns on Newt then just how self absorbed he must be sometimes. Hermann’s felt so many of the same doubts and insecurities in their relationship and he’s been so wrapped up in his own head, in his own soul crushing thoughts, that he never considered that these thoughts were mutual. He’s been so caught up in his feelings for Hermann and how all encompassing they can be, the consideration of Hermann’s own inner intensity hadn’t dawned on him. Now he feels it immensely.

The road signs soon make it no secret where they’re headed, and even if they didn’t betray the truth, Newt can feel the change in the air. It’s been a long while since he’s been by the sea, at least as himself fully and truly. The ocean doesn’t scare him in its immensity, in its quest to kill and destroy. He understands that it’s like the night sky and it cares little for him individually and that anonymity is a blessing to him. Newt wants to be just another person in this world, nothing more and nothing less. The only other requests he has are to be good and to be loved.

When Hermann stops the car he looks incredibly pleased with himself and Newt has to lean over to kiss him in thanks. Then he’s opening the door and rushing across the sand. The beach is empty, save for figures in the distance. It’s far too cold for anyone to be here visiting, but Newt loves the desolate loneliness of the stretches of sand. Newt’s only kicked off his shoes and stopped to peel off his socks before taking to the water. His coat is only shed at the water’s edge, a last thought before submerging. He’s going to regret this later, with the cold ocean water to his thighs but he doesn’t care as he feels the crash of waves. It’s cold, nothing like his floats in the cow pond on summer afternoons. This thing is entirely more immense and he does not want to hold his breath, he’ll struggle against every current and shout and scream as he needs to.

The water’s blurred his glasses and Newt turns back to the shore. He cannot see clearly, but he can see enough. The most familiar, most beloved, figure makes its way down the sand and Newt feels acutely what it is to be anchored. And he knows just as acutely what it means to be good and to be loved, because Hermann is both. Here is a man who will follow him to the ends of the earth and who Newt would gladly follow even further. Newt’s heart is a supernova and this moment of profound beauty won’t last forever, but it’s going to last long enough. They’re going to have enough time.

With as much urgency as he rushed into the water, Newt emerges onto the grey skied shore. Hermann grimaces and drops his cane when the water speckled man embraces him but then they’re both laughing. The sound permeates everything and dispels any of Newt’s remaining anxiety.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Newt repeats, kissing along Hermann’s neck.

“You’re welcome, Newton. I love you.”

When Newt pulls away, he laughs more and wipes away the tears that have escaped Hermann. They’re going to be good men together.

  


Despite the chill, they spend the rest of the day at the beach. Hermann had the foresight to bring a change of clothes for Newt, blankets to stay warm, and a picnic for dinner. They take turns reading aloud to each other, and review plans for the house in the next year (as well as plans for a proper wedding) and enjoy each other’s company. They spend some time in the truck bed and Newt’s grateful that Hermann also had the foresight to bring something with more room than the backseat of his car.

Hermann suggests they leave when it turns dark, but Newt insists on staying to watch the first of the stars dot the sky. They don’t have the luxury of their telescope, but Newt still tries to impress Hermann with what he’s learned. Newt wants to say that he’s long since stopped focusing on dying stars, because he knows he’s still alive, but he wonders if Hermann would even recall a conversation from over a year prior. Instead, he teases Hermann about wishing on stars and suggests he drives home. Hermann yawns his agreement.

Despite the chill, Newt drives with the window cracked slightly open, partially to keep himself awake. They’re only about two hours from home, which should be easy enough, but neither of them are made for the late nights they once used to keep. The comfort of home and domestic life means an enjoyment of being comfortable in bed at an early hour and Newt wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. Halfway through the trip, Hermann nods off, resting his head against the window of the truck and Newt’s left with nothing but the starry lit backroads and the dim sound of the radio. It’s enough.

When they pull into the driveway, Hermann stirs awake and offers Newt a sleepy smile. The porch light’s on a timer and it illuminates the cat eagerly awaiting their arrival. There’s some work to do before they can go to sleep but Newt’s grateful to be home for the night.

“Thank you again for today,” Newt says, looking over at Hermann. 

“Thank you for today, honestly,” Hermann answers and grabs Newt’s hand.

“Just a year ago I...I had hoped so badly that this would be my life and now that it’s here it’s better than anything I ever had hoped. I know deserving shit doesn’t mean...it doesn’t mean anything but I think, if I don’t deserve this happiness yet, I’m on my way to it.”

“Newton, you’ve always deserved this, and it’ll always be yours.”

Hermann leans over and kisses him. It’s the easiest thing in the world, being with Hermann. It feels like the concept has rooted itself so profoundly in Newt’s being he can’t extract it, not that he’d ever want to. It’s his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @ newtguzzler and tumblr @ pendragoff


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